


oh the shadows (what secrets they hold)

by Marzue



Series: Batfam 18+ January Prompt Event [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Dick Grayson Deserves Better, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Gen, I'm just here trying my best to give the Ric arc the justice it deserves, Introspection, One Shot, Ric Grayson Fix-It, Ric Grayson also deserves better, but his methods are questionable, he's trying to reach out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzue/pseuds/Marzue
Summary: Ric sat there for longer than he bothered to keep track of, long enough that he could almost ignore the speck of a man approaching him, but his ever-vigilant brain refused to ignore the man approaching. The man who was not supposed to be here, near him.It was barely moments before Bruce, the Batman, stood over him, a mountain of assumptions and truths Ric couldn’t ever hope to reach the top of. He did nothing to acknowledge Batman’s presence at first, nothing except stand up to face him.“What do you want?”Day 1: Sharing Secrets
Series: Batfam 18+ January Prompt Event [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085816
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54
Collections: Bat Family 18+ Discord Server January Prompt Event





	oh the shadows (what secrets they hold)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Batfam 18+ Server January prompt list. Special thanks to Niu and Marns for beta-ing!!!
> 
> (Reuploaded because I messed it up the first time, rip)

Ric hated the shadows. He hated how they would tangle around his legs, wrapping around his arms until his muscles ached and his bones creaked. Looping around his mouth, his nose, his eyes, muddling his thoughts and numbing his tongue until he couldn’t speak, couldn’t protest. 

The shadow of the man who was supposedly his father, the shadow of the family who hated who he was. He hated the shadows his ‘family’ lived in, full of deception and selfish desire and unmeasurable  _ control _ . The shadows that lingered, even as he ran away from the people who made the shadows. 

Yes, Ric hated the shadows, the secrets they held, the lies they covered. 

But most of all, Ric hated the shadow of the man he was forced to live in,  _ his _ own shadow. The one shadow that, try as he might, he could never get away from.

The shadows that, no matter how far he ran, still followed him. 

Ric sat on top of the tallest building available that had a crumbling, rusted fire escape that he could access from an alley. 

He didn’t know why he went to the tops of buildings to relax. Most would consider it dangerous, reckless even, and Ric… didn’t know  _ why _ he found comfort in it. He- he just needed the space to think, the time to just  _ exist _ , without any expectations or hidden agendas (beyond his own agenda, which was to figure out who the  _ hell _ he was). 

Maybe he enjoyed it, up high, because the only shadow to be seen was the one he left. 

Maybe he was just an adrenaline junkie.

Ric’s teeth ached from the chill, the early cold front spoiling his autumn evening, but he didn’t care. He just wanted a second to reboot, a second to forget everything that troubled him. His legs dangled over the edge of the building and for a brief, fleeting moment, he could just picture himself leaping off the edge, confident he would land safely. 

The wind whispered past him, snatching the breath from his throat before he could even speak. Before he could cry out and ask the questions he could never ask. He wished he could reach out and snag the truths they held. But Ric had forgotten how to hold on, and now he was stuck floundering.

Instead, he settled, listening to the foreign lilts that rushed by, fervently ignoring the hidden longing that he felt to  _ understand _ . 

Ric sat there for longer than he bothered to keep track of, long enough that he could almost ignore the speck of a man approaching him, but his ever-vigilant brain refused to ignore the man approaching. The man who was  _ not _ supposed to be here, near him. 

It was barely moments before Bruce, the Batman, stood over him, a mountain of assumptions and truths Ric couldn’t ever hope to reach the top of. He did nothing to acknowledge Batman’s presence at first, nothing except standing up to face him.

“What do you want?” 

Ric’s voice, he was thankful to hear didn’t waver or crack. It almost seemed pleasant. That is, if one didn’t note the glare he threw at the man before him. Batman didn’t seem to want to move, or speak at all, but Ric refused to sit in silence with this man. He  _ refused _ . 

“This isn’t a library,  _ Bruce _ . You can speak.” The name danced mockingly on his lips, and he appreciated the way Batman glowered at it, the power his name held. Batman made no move to come closer, a pillar of  _ justice  _ and  _ self-righteousness  _ cloaked in a shield of shadows. 

“You need to come home.” The thick gravel of his voice betrayed nothing, allowed no emotion through. The command though,  _ that  _ irritated Ric. He hated the anger already rising in his chest, that wanted nothing more than to rip his heart out and leave the ghost of a man in front of him to rot. 

(Ric wished Bruce would take a hint and leave  _ him _ alone to rot in peace. At least then, the only expectations he’d be buried in were his own.)

Home. he hated that word. ‘Home’. The giant mausoleum of a childhood home that he was supposedly raised in, after his parents death (and what a bomb that was-- being told so matter of factly about his parents death, the information just tossed in like a conversation filler. 'Oh, the weather is nice today.', 'Did you see the new movie that just came out?', 'Oh yeah, your parents died 18 years ago.' No warmth from Bruce. No love.)

His only ‘home’ now was the cab he was living in, with the stained carpets and the hint of mildew that no longer bothered him. No, his home wasn’t whatever mansion they wanted to drag him back no, not anymore than the man in front of him was his father. 

Nevermind. He had more pressing concerns. 

“No.”

He refused to go back to that ‘family’, that group of entitled selfish pricks that ignored who he WAS and only cared about who he USED to be. (And the small voice in the back of his brain that whispered that wasn’t a fair assessment-- that most of the family had respected his wishes of isolation… Well. It was easy to ignore when the rush of anger felt so vindicating).

Bruce frowned at him, and Ric felt how the shadows that swarmed around him were going to attack him. 

“You’re not safe here, Dick. You’re unprotected.” He paused, and Ric could only imagine how Bruce’s cowl-hidden eyes lowered to where his surgery scar was. “Compromised.” Ric sneered. 

“Compromised is one hell of a word for a bullet in the brain, B.” Ric spat out and the Bat didn’t flinch, but that letter (for whatever fucking reason, a  _ single _ letter against the immovable wall of Batman) prompted Batman to take a step closer to him. Now, the Bat stood too close for comfort, and Ric had no choice but to step back.

“You’re completely alone out here, Dick. Come back.”  _ Home, back to the family _ , went unsaid. Ric preferred it that way. Easier to ignore a noose that’s hidden than a string that’s in plain sight. 

“Y’know, I’d rather stay here, if that’s alright with you.” 

“You won’t.”

“Can, and  _ will _ , Bruce. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a legal adult, and I sure as hell don’t answer to you.” The silence floated between them and stretched. A beat passed, then a second beat, and if Ric didn’t know any better, he’d say Batman was grimacing. 

Much to Ric’s bemusement, the silence didn’t last long enough . “Your safety and security are my number one priority, Dick. You need to come back to me for that,” Bruce growled. 

Ric couldn’t quite stop the bitter chuckle that he bit out, not that he was sure he wanted to stop it. (He still wasn’t quite sure what he wanted at ALL, if what he wanted was his true self or a spite filled child trying to pretend to be an adult alone. Maybe a bit of both. Maybe one in the same.)

“Ah, safety and security. Tell me this Bruce, where does showing me the video of my brain getting a bullet lodged in it fall under safety and security? It definitely isn’t safety, and it sure as hell isn’t  _ my _ security, so whose is it Bruce? Yours? The  _ ‘family’s’ _ ?”

“This is non-negotiable.” Bruce seemed ready to say more, but no,  _ fuck that noise _ .

“Shut up, Bruce. I  _ asked _ you a question. You’ve ignored my express wishes, came here when I want nothing to do to you, so if you want to talk we can TALK.” Ric marched forward, directly in front of Bruce, and oh how he loathed the inches that Bruce towered over him. 

“What’s the  _ truth _ , Bruce? What do you really want from me? Because, from what I’m seeing, all  _ you _ want is for Mr. Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson, wunderkind, prodigy, and savior to all, to return. You just want my memories back Bruce, and I’m sorry,  _ but I can’t do that. _ ” He had tried so hard, and that was his first failure, wasn’t it?

Bruce made no move to talk, didn’t even seem to acknowledge the pain scraping Ric’s throat, the hurt laced in the words he was barely able to control. 

“Tell me!” Ric was shouting, pleading to the man who had raised him.Bruce didn’t seem to shift. “Just tell me! I’d really like to know what you wanted to accomplish.” 

“You don’t understand the pain we went through when you lost your memories, Dick.” 

“Bullshit. Bullshit! I had MY fucking brains blown out! What’s more painful than  _ THAT _ ? I lost years of memories in a second, and I’ve yet to witness anyone acknowledge the pain I went through. The pain I’m STILL going through. Did you know I still have awful migraines, Bruce?  _ Huh _ ? Did you know that I’m  _ still  _ suffering blackouts?”

Bruce’s voice was almost soft, sounding more like a normal human being than it had all evening. “I… was unaware you were still suffering symptoms, Dick.” 

”My name is Ric. Respect that even if you won’t respect me.”

“That’s not true, Dic- Ric. You were the one who decided to run out on the family.” And Ric? Ric saw red. 

Ric scoffed, scoffed instead of screaming like he longed to do. “The truth. You want the  _ truth _ , Bruce? You want to know what I really think?” The mask of a man in front of him didn’t move, didn’t blink, and Ric resented him just a bit more. 

"I have a secret Bruce, and here's the honest truth: After that gunshot, I had NO expectations for you.” Bruce flinched minutely at the mention of the wound,  _ his _ wound, and that tiny break in his mask was all it took for Ric to continue on. 

“I woke up in that hospital with no memories, nothing of over a  _ decade _ of my life. I had no hopes, I knew nothing about you, and I had no expectations for this family. None.”

“And yet,” Ric continued, unable to keep a bitter snap out of his voice.

“When I came back to your mansion, you somehow managed to shatter them." 

Bruce was a statue, not moving, not breathing. 

“I have no ties to your family, and it seems I used to have no ties to your family outside of my use as a  _ tool _ .” He sneered that word, sneered out the frustration and the hurt and the pity he felt for his past self, whose closest allies seemed to view him as nothing more than a cog in the machine for use when they saw fit. “Face it, I didn’t ‘run out’ on any of you. I walked out. Walked out of a family that can’t even notice when their brother, their  _ son _ , is hurting and needs help.” 

“So tell me again Bruce, what’s the truth? Because I’m sick of all the shit people are trying to sell to me, and I’m not sticking around if that’s all there is to this family.”

Bruce, it seemed, had nothing to say, no words of defense left. A curt “If you no longer have a death wish, come back” was shot his way. Then nothing else. 

Bruce left, and even as his tall figure melted back into the distance, Ric couldn’t ignore the shadows wrapped around him. Couldn’t shake the feeling they were about to strangle him.

Instead, he settled back down, and tried to listen to the wind and understand the truths they held. 

**Author's Note:**

> Listen listen listen, idk why I care so much about Ric Grayson, but one prompt list later I realized I have WAY too many thoughts and feelings about this funky bastard man. Rest be assured I have more Ric prompts to explore, so I can (hopefully) bring Ric the closure he never really got in canon.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated! This is my first time doing a month-long event so I’m very excited to be doing this one. Have a great day y’all!!!


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